


the customary blessing

by smutofattolia



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Altar Sex, Anal Sex, Biting, Consent Issues, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Gangbang, Group Sex, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Light Bondage, Loyalty Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Something Made Them Do It, Spitroasting, ancient ruined temples, but everyone’s having fun, consent issues due to sex pollen, handwavey magic, mysterious inscriptions, the unpredictable consequences of reading mysterious inscriptions aloud, yes it’s Gen/Costis/Aris’s entire squad okay don’t look at me like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutofattolia/pseuds/smutofattolia
Summary: Movies haven’t been invented on the Little Peninsula yet, so Eugenides has never seen The Mummy, but even without that, you’d think he’d know that if one comes across a mysterious inscription in an ancient ruined temple in the forest, one should notread it aloud.or, a fic with a very flimsy excuse for a squad of Attolis’s guards to. uh. show their king a good time
Relationships: Aristogiton/Costis Ormentiedes, Eugenides/Aristogiton, Eugenides/Costis Ormentiedes, Eugenides/Costis Ormentiedes/Aristogiton/Legarus/other royal guards, Eugenides/Legarus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	the customary blessing

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The beginning of this was written prior to the release of Return of the Thief.  
> 2\. Sex-pollen-type fics inherently have consent issues, but everyone involved is having a great time, and there will be no hard feelings afterwards. It’s PWP—no realism here lol  
> 3\. Most importantly: a hearty thank-you to the multiple kind friends who helped me come up with this pseudonym and encouraged me to post this

It ended up lucky—very,  _ very _ lucky—that Eugenides left behind his attendants down at the base of the mountain. 

“I’m just going up to look at the ruined temple,” he’d told them. “If my guards can’t manage to protect me from stray squirrels, I don’t see how you’d be any use.” And so he’d taken a single squad of guards (plus Costis) on a nice peaceful ramble halfway up a small mountain. 

The ruin was on a large flat ledge, big enough for them to pitch a small camp if they so desired. Trees grew out from between cracked stone blocks to form sheltering walls and a canopy to replace the roof that had been destroyed long since. 

The king poked at the large word carved into the surface of the altar. “Hmmm. I don’t know this god.” He read the name aloud. “Anyone recognize them?”

The guards shook their heads. “The name sounds like something from before the invaders,” said Damon. 

“It is,” said the king. “It’s written in the oldest version of the Archaic script.”

“There’s something written here,” Damon said, looking closer. There was another inscription on the edge of the altar’s top surface. It was clearly visible despite the moss growing over the entire altar in patches. “Can you read this, your majesty?”

“Sort of.” The king crouched down to peer at it. The altar was about hip-height, and rectangular, with a top slightly extended from the sides, like a wooden cabinet and not a stone block. “This part,” he said, tracing the edge of the long side that faced the temple entrance, “is a standard formula praising all the gods in general, aside from the one honored in any particular temple. I don’t remember the exact translation but it’s all over the place in Eddis.” He read it aloud, half from rote memory. Then he moved sideways, still crouched, and read out the inscription behind the head of the altar, sounding out the words carefully. This one he didn’t recognize at all, though it called on the deity written on top of the altar to… provide something? Do something? Cause something, by-means-of-something, to happen to somebody?

It was meant to be a blessing, anyway, not a curse, that much was clear. Some basic prefixes and particles were still the same in modern demotic, even if he didn’t recognize the root verb. 

He stood. “Everyone have your gifts?”

They’d each brought something with them to make a sacrifice in case there was an altar still standing. Most of the men wouldn’t have bothered on their own, but Costis’s reaction to the king’s order had convinced them to take it seriously too. Meron and Damon and Aris each put nutcakes on the altar, unwrapped carefully from inside sticky napkins; the king brought out a chain of carnelian beads from an inner pocket; Costis set down a little tin of sugared caraway and aniseed confits.

Aris called to the men outside, but there was no answer. Suddenly wary, everyone else drew swords and surrounded the king.

Aris carefully slipped out of the side of the temple and went around. A moment later, a sheepish Legarus appeared at the main entrance, rubbing his head. 

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s fine, we didn’t get murdered, we just didn’t hear anything.”

“There are no walls,” pointed out the king. The wind was loud in the trees, but their voices should have been audible. “You can put up your swords,” he told the others.

Legarus shrugged. “Sorry, your majesty,” he said again. He put a very squashed sandwich on the altar. “It’s egg and cheese,” he explained, misinterpreting their looks.

“I’m sure this very ancient god or goddess will appreciate a good egg-and-cheese,” said Meron, not very nicely. 

Legarus added a large, juicy-looking orange, saying, “Celades said to bring this in for him.”

They looked at the collection of offerings. It wasn’t bad, especially with the string of precious beads—no god could complain of those—but it didn’t seem fitting, somehow. There was something missing. 

“HEY, ARIS!” Eugenides yelled, startling everyone else. “CELADES!”

No response, from Aris or the other man outside. 

Legarus poked his head out and called them in. 

“We didn’t hear  _ anything, _ ” said Aris. “Pardon me, your majesty, but I think we should get out of here.”

Celades was standing astride the threshold, sticking his head in and out through the doorway. “It’s amazing,” he said happily. “Like an invisible stone wall, but for sound.”

“Come all the way inside and don’t stick your head out until I’m done with the prayer,” said Eugenides. “Don’t worry, Aris, this isn’t nearly as spooky as the last ancient temple I visited.” He grinned. Anyone else making that kind of unlucky remark would get cuffed on the head and shouted at, and they couldn’t do it even though he thoroughly deserved it, and they knew that he knew it. He could just  _ tell  _ Costis was gritting his teeth, even though Costis was behind him. 

The men gathered around the altar, annoyed and just the tiniest bit frightened, but they were used to that by now. After pouring the libation using a flask and a tin camp mug, Eugenides recited a formal prayer in Archaic and then said a more spontaneous one in demotic, asking for the customary blessing of the one to whom this altar was consecrated, and ending in a request for safe passage when they left. It was  _ very _ carefully worded, taking into account the dangers of unwanted animal transformation and time travel (among other things). Nobody laughed, not even Damon. 

They passed the mug around and took a sip, Eugenides poured out the rest, the thing was done. 

“All right, Celades, go and do your experiments.”

Celades took Legarus with him to test the limits of the Celades Effect (as he had decided to call it). 

Costis followed the king as he went to inspect the inscriptions on the remaining pillars and miscellaneous stone blocks. The other men spread out around the temple. There didn’t seem to be anything to guard against, but the place was clearly uncanny, and they were not about to let their king get eaten by creepy silence demons or some such thing.

It quickly became evident that most of the inscriptions were ancient graffiti. Many of the words were names. “What do these say?” Costis asked quietly. “If you can read them.”

“Yes, I can. These right here are in late Archaic,” said Eugenides. “They say...” He looked closer, then smiled an amused smile at Costis. “Well, all of these people found this a nice convenient place for some privacy.”

Costis was confused. Then he felt his whole face flush. “What, in a temple?”

Eugenides shrugged. “Not everyone is a believer. There might have been a settlement down there once, after this temple was no longer in use, and I suppose they wanted to take advantage of this strange wall of silence.” He looked down. “It’s warm. Help me get this off.”

Costis fumbled at the buttons on the king’s jacket. He cursed himself while he did it. What was wrong with him? He’d helped the king get dressed this morning, and he’d been unaffected the whole time—he hadn’t felt like—like he wanted to—oh, all right, he had, but not this strongly. No more than he usually did. 

Buttons, he told himself. Just get his jacket off. That’s all he wants, just his jacket, don’t take off anything else.

It was hard to do when Eugenides was standing there with his eyes closed and his face upturned, taking deep steadying breaths. 

This was his king, Costis reminded himself. Absolute sovereign, oaths, loyalty, etcetera, etcetera. 

(That  _ really _ didn’t help.)

There was a yell behind them. Costis spun around guiltily, but Aris was standing behind the altar, hand over his mouth. 

“It’s all gone!” exclaimed Meron. 

“What?” said Eugenides. “Costis, get this sleeve for me.”

Costis turned back to untangle him from the jacket. Eugenides had his back against a pillar and Costis was standing far too close to him. He stumbled back, clutching the jacket.

The others were clustered around the altar. The two of them went to see, Eugenides sticking close to Costis. 

The offerings were gone. 

The napkins from the sticky nutcakes remained, and the tin which had held the sugared confits. Its lid lay to the side. The food was gone, and the string of beads, and all traces of the wine poured on the ground by the altar. 

“See?” said Legarus to Meron. “They  _ do _ like egg and cheese sandwiches.”

“Did the ancient people do human sacrifices?” asked Aris suddenly. 

“What?!” said two or three of the men at once.

“Look,” he said. He pointed to one end of the altar, the side where Eugenides had found the inscription asking for a blessing. It  _ did _ look like the slight hollow was meant for a head, and the center was worn down like an old mattress. They hadn’t noticed before because of the moss, but it was unmistakable once you knew it was there. 

“No channels running off the sides,” said Eugenides. “And nowhere to attach restraints. So probably not ritual murder.”

He was right. “And it’s too short,” Costis said as he realized. If someone lay down on their back, their hips might be at the edge or hanging over, depending on their height. Or if they tried to lay face-down, they’d end up bent over at the waist—

Costis looked around. Everyone else was having the same thought, it seemed. 

Except the king. He hopped up to sit on the side of the altar, his legs swinging (which surely he would not have done if he shared in that same inexplicably vivid mental image). He adjusted his tunic loosely over his thighs and said, “You all seem a bit tense.”

Costis looked around. He, personally, was now desperately clutching the king’s jacket in front of him, but Damon was doing the exact same thing with his rucksack. Aris was standing close to the altar with his hands resting in front of him on its surface, conveniently hiding the front of his breeches. Celades had retreated behind the stub of a fallen pillar for much the same reason. 

Legarus and Meron, who were busy staring at each other, realized they were being observed and tried to hide behind each other.

“Aha,” said Eugenides. “So it’s not just me, then.”

“We can’t—it’s—we have to get out of here,” said Aris. He had his hand on the king’s shoulder, but the king didn’t pull away. 

“We can’t go back in this state,” protested Legarus. He didn’t seem to notice Meron taking his hand.

“I think this is my fault. I’m sorry,” said the king quietly. “I should have thought before asking for the ‘customary blessing.’ I have no intention of—of compelling any of you...” He didn’t finish the sentence. He took a few deep, even breaths and seemed very engrossed in the small flower growing next to his left hand in a crack on the altar. “Perhaps you’d all better go off by yourselves and… deal with your condition.”

All the men looked at each other. Nobody moved. 

“And  _ that’s  _ not just me, either, is it,” said Eugenides. Aris was now gently winding his fingers through the curls of hair behind Eugenides’s left ear, and instead of any kind of reasonable reaction, Eugenides was instead leaning closer to him. 

“I think that’s part of the spell,” said Costis. “The blessing. Whatever it is.” He perched on the altar beside the king and reached out to unbutton his sleeve. “That’s why those people carved their names all together.”

“Oh,” said the king in a breathy voice no one present had ever heard from him before, either from understanding or possibly from Costis stroking his fingers up and down his inner arm. 

“We are probably meant to help each other,” said Celades. He and Meron were already working together to get Legarus’s clothes off. 

“One of you,” said the king distractedly, “should help me with this.” He gestured at his tunic with his hook, because his left hand was interlaced with Costis’s hand. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. 

Damon turned away from all of them and dumped his entire rucksack out onto the grass. It was the fastest way to search through all his things, and he had a feeling he should do that while he was still thinking clearly enough to remember what he needed.

“I found it,” he announced triumphantly. He came up to the altar, holding a small bottle. 

Eugenides laughed. “Why did you bring  _ that _ up here?” His breath hitched mid-sentence when Costis slid his hand beneath his undershirt.

“I didn’t want to leave it for someone to find while I was gone,” said Damon. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about it, not in the middle of a situation like this.

Costis, sitting on the altar beside the king, was caressing him under his undershirt and pressing kisses to the side of his throat. Aris was kneeling in front of him, untying his boots, but he kept getting distracted and stopping to look up at what Costis was doing.

Damon put the bottle of oil on the altar and went to unfasten the cuff of the king’s hook. Then he hesitated. “Costis, could you—?”

Costis came over to the king’s other side and began to unlace the cuff’s fastenings. Damon went to take his place beside the king, and Costis’s reaction was what convinced him that they were all really and truly affected by the so-called blessing of the temple and not merely some strange inflammation of lust. Instead of reacting with jealousy, Costis looked absolutely fascinated as Damon bent to kiss Eugenides. 

His mouth was soft and cool like he had been drinking from a spring. Damon cupped his jaw in both hands and kissed him deeper, encouraged by Eugenides clutching at his arm to bring him closer.

Someone else ran his hand down Damon’s back. It was Aris, who had finished removing the king’s boots. He wanted to get the rest of his clothes off as well, and Damon was in the way. So was Costis. After removing the king’s hook—it lay in the grass now, entirely forgotten—he had put his hand back under his shirt and went right back to kissing his throat again. He was rewarded with barely-audible little gasps and sighs. 

Aris pushed at Costis’s shoulder irritably. “Move over for a second,” he said. “We need to get him undressed.”

“All right,” said Costis, and trailed his fingers slowly down Eugenides’s stomach before removing his hand from his shirt. 

Aris seemed to be the most in control of himself out of all of them, but that just meant it was easier for him to focus on his goal of taking the king’s clothes off without getting sidetracked. Damon, on the other hand, forgot the whole reason he’d moved out of the way and reached between the king’s legs. Aris swatted him out of the way. 

“Oh, look,” said Costis. 

They turned and looked. Meron was lying on his back on the ground, and Celades, kneeling beside them, was holding Legarus’s head down so Meron could thrust his cock into Legarus’s mouth. Legarus’s own legs were spread wide, and he was rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction against the ground. 

“That’s—that looks good,” said Eugenides, and Aris took advantage of the momentary distraction to finally lift his shirt up and off. 

“Let them be for now,” said Aris. “They can fuck you after we’re done with you.”

Eugenides laughed. “Oh, is that what—mmph.” He was cut off by Aris kissing him, messy and fast. He put his right arm around Aris’s neck and grabbed Aris’s belt buckle with his left hand. Damon went to help, brushing his hand away gently so he could get Aris’s belt open himself. He didn’t really need to stand behind Aris while he did so, but he liked the idea of wrapping his arms around Aris, and then he came up with the brilliant idea of pressing his cock to Aris’s ass, and then Aris rubbed back against him and Damon entirely forgot about getting Aris’s belt off. 

After a little bit of this, Aris and Eugenides did manage to untangle themselves long enough to undo Aris’s belt and pull his trousers down. Costis, still behind the king, grabbed his left arm as he reached for Aris. “No,” he said hoarsely. 

“Hmm?” Eugenides sounded puzzled but not displeased. He leaned back against Costis’s chest and looked up at him, easy affection in his eyes.

“Wait,” said Costis. He took a deep breath. “I think—all right. Yes. We should get on the ground, first of all. It won’t be comfortable up here.”

Eugenides smiled up at him. 

“And.” He blushed. Impossibly, after all he had already done, and despite what he was about to do, Costis still blushed. “And. Uh. Anyone who fucks you can’t, uh, have your mouth afterwards, but we can—we can do it the other way around. Your mouth first, and then—you know.”

“ _ Good  _ idea,” said Aris. “So, okay, we all start with your mouth first.”

Eugenides nodded and reached for Aris, but Costis pulled his hand back again, and this time didn’t let go.

Aris stroked the king’s face, and pushed some stray curls back. When Eugenides made no move to stop him, Aris sank his hands into the king’s hair and clenched his fingers. The king sighed happily. “One of you go and get the others,” he said. “And get me down from here.” There was nothing stopping him from climbing down himself, of course, but no one objected.

While Costis picked him up in his arms, Damon turned away to go pull Meron and Celades off of Legarus. 

He was just in time. Meron was holding Legarus’s head down himself now, making sure he could get his cock as deep as possible, and Celades was pushing apart Legarus’s legs. Damon explained, quickly, about Costis’s plan, and Celades got up. Meron pushed Legarus off of him, and left him lying facedown and gasping. 

Damon knelt beside him on the grass. “Get up,” he said. “Come on, get up quick, come and see what a good idea Costis just had.”

“Better than what I was just doing?” grumbled Legarus, but he came along anyway.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please don’t ask me how an egg-and-cheese sandwich made it into a fic like this


End file.
